The orgasm flows through me, like fire rolling through my veins. I’m burning alive and in need of more.

  “Please,” I beg, literal tears streaming down my face.

  Camden crawls up my body and kisses my chin, then my cheek. Then he presses his mouth to mine. “Shh, baby girl, I got you. I’m going to give you everything you need.”

  The softness of his tone makes me gooey and more emotional. I claw at him, grabbing his hips, trying with all my strength to maneuver him so he’s exactly where I need him.

  “No,” he growls.

  Head dropped back, I pout.

  “Not without a condom.” He sits up on his knees. “You need to be safer. You should be asking questions. We should have a conversation first, talk about whether you’re on birth control. Whether either of us has been tested. Don’t just spread these legs for me like a little slut.”

  I whimper. Fuck. He’s right. And I’m never this reckless. It’s wild, what he does to me.

  He backs away and digs a condom out of his nightstand. He’s already rolling it on when he settles between my thighs again.

  “Will it be safe with all those piercings?” I ask, a little of my good sense returning to me.

  His lips tick up into a grin. “Good girl. That’s a good question.” He notches himself at my entrance, nudging in just a fraction. He pulls back out and does it again. And again.

  I whimper in earnest.

  “Yes, it’s safe. It shouldn’t rip. But if it does, I’m safe. I can pull up my test results on my phone if you want.”

  I shake my head, though in the back of my mind, a thought blooms. How much sex does this man have to so readily have that information available? The question should freak me out. Instead, I like that he’s a man who knows what he wants.

  And what he wants is me.

  “Birth control?” He arches a brow.

  “I’m on the shot.”

  He tucks his chin and focuses on where we meet, sliding in a little deeper, then pulling back again. “For now.” The words barely register before he’s pushing inside for real, pulling a moan from deep in my throat.

  ELEVEN

  CAMDEN

  Savannah squeezes me like a fucking vise as I push inside her.

  “Breathe, baby girl.”

  With the smallest of nods, she sucks in one breath, then another. On the third, I bury myself to the hilt, groaning as I find my new home.

  I’m a forty-six-year-old man. I’ve had more than my fair share of sexual encounters, but nothing, and I mean not a goddamn thing, has ever felt this good.

  Maybe it’s the heat of her. Or how tight she is. Or maybe it’s the whimpers that slip from her throat or the way she scratches at my skin, searching for purchase before I even start truly fucking her.

  It’s definitely her tits and the way they jiggle with the tiniest of thrusts. Those pink pebbled nipples that make my mouth water. They’re magnificent. I can’t wait for her to ride me so they can hit me in the face.

  It’s absolutely the color of her hair and how wild it is splayed out on my pillow around her head. And those damn green eyes. The way they watch me, seeking approval.

  Though each detail is enough on its own to send my heart rate up another notch, on anyone else, they’d be ordinary. It’s her. I don’t understand it, but I’m old enough to know there’s no point in trying.

  Instead, I lean down and press my mouth to hers, moaning and biting and licking and sucking, enjoying the hell out of every second she’s in my bed. Working myself in and out of her, ensuring my piercings hit all the right places. I use my hands, stimulating that sensitive clit and lavishing her breasts until she comes over and over again. I flip her over and fuck her from behind. Spank her ass. Lick her hole. Make her scream.

  I fuck her in every position. Only when she’s exhausted and completely wrung out do I force her to her knees, pull the condom off, and fuck her throat.

  She’s a dream, a goddamn sexual goddess. She keeps her eyes locked on mine and plays with my balls. She hollows out her cheeks and slips her finger in my asshole. Her teary eyes flash with triumph when I wrap her hair around my fist and come down her throat.

  I black out from the pleasure, collapsing on the mattress with a groan.

  I’m still trying to formulate words when she stumbles back from the bathroom, naked and fucking perfect.

  When she bends over and picks something up off the floor, I sit up. “What are you doing?”

  Over her shoulder, she hits me with a saucy wink. “Calling my friends. They’ve texted a hundred times asking where I am.”

  She turns back, and then a ringing sound echoes through my bedroom. She drops the device onto the bed and plucks her dress off the floor.

  “Hello, hussy. Where the hell did you disappear to?” a woman says in greeting.

  Laughing, she peers over at me. “Just finishing up. You gals ready to leave?”

  I snatch the phone before her friend can respond. “Hello?”

  “Um, hello?” she responds.

  “Who is this?”

  “Addie.” The word is drawn out and full of confusion. “Uncle Cam, is that you?”

  Savannah cackles as I slap my hand to my face and groan. “Yup.”

  “Okay,” she says awkwardly.

  Accepting that the damage has already been done, I jump in with both feet. “Savannah’s not going to need a ride. She’ll see you girls tomorrow.”

  At the foot of the bed, Savannah’s mouth falls open.

  Addie, on the other hand, giggles. “Okay, Uncle Cam. Take care of our girl.”

  I pull the phone away from my ear, and as I hit the End button, Savannah lunges for it.

  “Wait!” she yells, but it’s too late. “What are you doing?” she asks, her tone suddenly irritated as she snatches the phone from me.

  I level her with a stern glare and hold out my hand. “Give me your phone.”

  I’ve lost all damn sense when it comes to her, but there’s no turning back.

  With a frown, she obeys. She’s still naked, and though her dress is draped over the mattress in front of her, she makes no move to put it on.

  I type in my number and save it to her contacts under just one name. Daddy. Then I call myself.

  “What are you doing?” she asks again.

  Focus fixed on her, drinking in her naked form, I leave myself a message. “Hi, Daddy, it’s baby girl. I’ve just had the best sex of my life and I want to see you again. Tell Daddy hi,” I say, holding the phone in her direction.

  She snorts and rolls her eyes, but then in the sexiest rasp, she says, “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Good girl.” I end the call and toss the device onto the floor. “Now get back in bed. There’s no fucking way I’m done with you yet.”

  She glances at the door and then at her phone.

  “Savannah,” I warn.

  Cheeks pink and eyes bright, she launches herself at me with a squeal.

  Yeah, that’s what I thought. This girl is mine, and I don’t plan on ever letting her fucking go.

  TWELVE

  SAVANNAH

  “Oh, look, Savannah finally made her way home,” Addie announces as I slink into her apartment at seven the next morning.

  Addie lives a few blocks from Camden’s place, so I took the worst walk of shame at six thirty, sneaking out of his room with my heels in my hand. When I opened the front door and the alarm beeped in warning, I rushed down the steps without looking back and ran a full block barefoot. When I could no longer see his house, I stopped and slipped on my shoes. Then, in the scandalous green dress, I walked through Boston, freezing my ass off, wishing I hadn’t been such a tragic whore last night.

  Tragic because I didn’t leave like I should have after our first round. Nope. I went another four rounds. And in between, we talked. For hours.

  God, I like him.

  Like really like him.

  “Need coffee and carbs, not necessarily in that order.” I drop my shoes in the corner and rush for the couch where my friends are curled up with blankets and their own mugs.

  I knew they’d be awake. Addie rarely sleeps past six, even if she’s out late, because of her years of early hockey practices. Sutton could sleep for another seven hours, but she suffers regularly from major FOMO, so if she hears a peep, she’s up. Josie? She looks like she could fall asleep with her eyes open right now. She’ll spend the rest of the afternoon napping.

  I tug on the edge of Josie’s blanket and plop down beside her, but she rolls to her side, taking her blanket and her warmth with her.

  “You smell like sex.”

  Addie holds open her blanket, and I gratefully settle beside her. “You do smell like sex,” she agrees, but rather than push me away, she passes her coffee to me. “So how was it?”

  I shake my head and close my eyes. Then I take a slow sip and will the caffeine to do its magic.

  “That good, huh?” Sutton teases.

  “Hey, I’m doing this for you,” I snap.

  Her giggles ricochet off the walls. “Right, because it was such a chore to fuck Camden Snow all night.”

  I huff. Not in the slightest. It was incredible and amazing, and I’m going to be sore for at least three weeks. But yeah, definitely not a chore.

  “I, for one, didn’t sleep with anyone last night,” Sutton says proudly. Her blond hair is piled high on her head, and somehow her makeup still looks perfect.

  While I’m pretty sure I look like roadkill.

  “And before you ask,” she goes on, “I also didn’t ask Royal what he wanted to name our future children.”

  With that one sentence, all my stupid comments from last night come rushing back like a fucking freight train. Fuck. Groaning, I drop my head back against the couch.

  Josie perks up. “Oh my god, you asked Camden Snow what he wanted to name your kids?”

  “No…” I mumble, mortification sweeping through me. I cover my face with my hands. “I asked if he wanted kids.”

  My friends break into squeals of laughter, kicking their feet and sending the blankets to the floor.

  I swipe Addie’s blanket and pull it over my head. “I know. It’s so embarrassing.”

  Addie yanks the fleece away, the move causing my hair to cling to my face. “What did he say?”

  “He said he used to,” I murmur, hastily brushing my wild hair back.

  “What?” Josie sits forward, zeroed in on me.

  I glare at her. “He said he used to, and then he got all serious for a second.”

  “Oh my god,” she squeals. “Does Camden Snow want you to have his babies? Did he breed you last night?”

  I groan and pull the blanket over my head again. “No.”

  Sutton giggles. “You know what? I want to make a bet.”

  “No bets.”

  “Yes bets!” She squeals, and the blanket is ripped away again. “I bet that even when you do everything you say is wrong, you won’t end up dumped.”

  “We’ll see,” I say, pulling out my phone.

  Yeah, I snuck out of Camden’s place. But the man has my number. He made sure of it. So if he wants to reach me, he knows how to find me.

  THIRTEEN

  SAVANNAH

  Calliope’s Column

  It’s Not Him, It’s You (Kind Of)

  Rule Number 1: Don’t sleep with him on the first date. Or ask him if he wants kids during foreplay.

  With a groan, I finish formatting the title and subtitle of my first article. Then I attach it to an email and send it over to copy for proofing. It’s been six days, and I haven’t heard a peep from Camden Snow.

  I guess I did what I set out to do. Proved that no matter how strong a connection, some actions are just deal-breakers. And it only took a single date to do it.

  Even after writing out precisely what I did wrong, I had my doubts. Because with him, it didn’t feel like there was a single thing I could do wrong. But here I am. I finally understand how Sutton can feel blindsided. Is this the type of connection she has with every man she falls for? It can’t be. Can it?

  Then again, who am I to judge? I thought we had a real connection. Something unique. And he didn’t even call me after. Normally Sutton makes it at least a week or two with her guys before she scares them off.

  Could his lack of contact have something to do with me sneaking out? Maybe. I suppose he might be angry about it. But he has far too much confidence to give up because of it. Plenty of men sneak out after one-night stands, so why can’t women? And he has my number. So if he wanted to call, he would. It’s dating 101. The feminine manifesto.

  I refuse to be a pathetic cliché and reach out, asking why he didn’t call. I’m not the exception, I’m the rule. We all are.

  I fling myself back in my chair, making it roll back and hit the wall with a thud.

  “What did the wall ever do to you?” Josie teases as she peeks over from her cubicle. Today she’s wearing a chic black and white outfit. I’d look like a cow in the loose, flowy fabric, but she pulls it off well.

  “Article’s done,” I say, making my tone light.

  Josie arches a brow. “Really? So he seriously didn’t call?”

  My heart pangs, but I ignore it. “Nope.”

  “Huh.” With a small frown, she shrugs. “Well, onto the next.”

  I sigh and sit up in my chair. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your next date. Who’s it going to be?”

  Oh shit. I’ve been too busy licking my wounds—which is absolutely absurd—to even think about it.

  It was one night.

  I squeeze my hands into fists, and as I relax them again, I release all the negative energy pent up inside me.

  She’s right. It’s time to move on.

  “Come on,” she says, heading out of her cubicle. “Let’s get drinks. Then we’ll find you your next victim.”

  “Addie specifically said no Langfields,” I remind Josie as I follow her toward a booth in the back.

  She peers over her shoulder and rolls her eyes. “Just walking down the street in Boston, you’re bound to run into a Langfield. But yeah, you’re definitely not going to date this one.”

  “What about me?” the shaggy-haired baseball player says as he turns, his face lighting up. When he clocks the two of us, the big brown eyes that are always bright and filled with mischief go wide. With a gasp, he practically hops over the back of the booth and slides in front of us.

  “Fucking A, Finn. You’re going to get us kicked out.” JJ Hanson glowers at his friend, but then he schools his expression and nods a hello.

  Ignoring JJ, Finn pulls us into a big hug, squishing us together. That’s one of the things I love about Addie’s older—and only—brother. He always includes me. He treats me like I grew up alongside him just like the rest of the girls.

  It’s also why, despite his position as the catcher for the Boston Revs and one of Boston’s most eligible bachelors, I have zero interest in dating him. For real or for an experiment. “You don’t mind, do ya, Ry?” Finn says to the hostess, who’s watching us from a couple of feet away.

  The pretty brunette shakes her head and points at JJ “You promised you’d keep him under control.”

  “I’ve got a four-year-old to control,” he mutters. “I can only do so much.”

  As Josie pushes me into the booth, I smile at JJ “Where’s Tabitha tonight?”

  He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek. Damn, looks like his wife’s whereabouts is a touchy subject. “No idea.”

  “But Grandma Cat is excited about babysitting,” Finn reminds him. “So you promised you’d actually relax.”

  He slides into the booth beside me, and now I’m sandwiched between two unavailable men. It’s not exactly how we planned tonight, but I can’t complain. I could use a little relaxation too.

  “Where’s Addie?” JJ asks.

  “She’s watching the twins for Win,” Finn says with a huff.

  Easygoing Finn’s frustration makes me think this isn’t the first or even second time JJ has asked about our best friend. Interesting. Honestly, if he wasn’t married, I think he’d be perfect for Addie. But she’d kill me if I told her that. And he is married, and that’s another one of our rules. No Langfields and no married men. Tonight I’m surrounded by both.

  “Yeah, I think Scar is going over there to relieve her if she gets out of class early enough,” Josie says of her younger sister Scarlett, who’s in college.

  Finn shrugs. “I offered to watch my favorite little guys too, but Win says I only get them more riled up.”

  I giggle. Finn, get kids more riled up? Can’t say I’m shocked. “How old are they now anyway?”

  “Four,” he says, picking up his drink.

  Four already. Damn. She’s a badass. Not only is she raising twin boys by herself, but she’s the CEO of the local MLB team, the Boston Revs.

  “I have no idea how she does it,” JJ says, voicing my thoughts. “I have enough trouble with one.”

  “Yeah, but Ave is the sweetest,” Josie says with a genuine smile.

  I’ve only met JJ’s daughter a handful of times, but I’d agree with the sentiment.

  “She’s also obsessed with learning how to skate but doesn’t listen to a thing I tell her,” JJ grumbles into his drink.

  I giggle. “You should ask Addie to help. She’s a pretty good coach, I’ve heard.”

  JJ runs a hand through his thick brown hair and sighs. He’s got these icy blue eyes that always throw me off-kilter. A man shouldn’t be as pretty as he is. Especially a married one. “Maybe,” he huffs.

  Not only is he hot and married, he’s grumpy too. But I’d be miserable as well if I was married to a woman who never made time for her family. From what I’ve heard, his wife Tabby seems more interested in partying with puck bunnies than being a mom. My heart hurts for the little girl. I may not have thought much about having kids, but I know that if I did, I wouldn’t want to miss a second with my child. I’d never want a kid to feel the way I did. Unwanted. Unloved.